Intangible
by dnofsunshine
Summary: Patamon lost his life on Earth, meaning he wasn't going to come back. Takeru is devastated... until he has several strange paranormal experiences that tell him Patamon isn't truly gone. And that there may be a way to bring him back. Gen; set in a different universe than tri. Trigger warning. On hold / NOT abandoned!
1. Numb

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Digimon. Shoutout to **Green Spaghetti** for helping me work through this first chapter, cos it's been at like, 400 words for months. Credit goes to her for the 'corrupted data' digimon idea, and for giving me some very helpful tips while editing. And also special thanks to all my pals on tumblr who are supporting me. It's greatly appreciated. :) I'm also not happy with the ending here, but I've been working on this for so long that I can't bring myself to care anymore. Enjoy.

**Trigger warning: **Please be aware that this story includes **temporary character death, depression, grief, self-neglect,** and** language.**

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**Ch 01 || Numb**

Takeru had an awful feeling about today.

He wasn't sure what the feeling was, or where it had come from. But it existed all the same, coiled tightly in his stomach, simultaneously white-hot and dangerously cool. It was like a parasite whose presence he was fully aware of, but couldn't figure out how to rid himself of it.

So he ignored it.

He shoved it down, down, down. Pretended it wasn't there when he got out of bed. Pretended it wasn't there when he climbed out of his sleepwear and into day clothes. Pretended it wasn't there as he continued preparing for the school day.

It seemed to be working, too. Because now he and Patamon were eating breakfast, and Patamon was happy as could be. When Patamon was happy, Takeru was happy.

From his place in front of the counter, Takeru bestowed his partner with a teasing, yet affectionate glance. "Patamon. That's the fourth piece of toast you've had. Are you ok?"

Patamon chewed slowly, looking back at Takeru with big, innocent blue eyes. Licked jam off his tiny paws. "Of course! I'm really hungry."

Takeru chuckled, abandoning his own plate to stare down at the notes he'd taken in algebra yesterday, trying to absorb as many formulas as he could before his test later this morning. He wasn't sure if he was prepared for it because math wasn't his strongest subject, but a little cramming a few hours before always helped.

Patamon took another happy bite of his breakfast. "Aren't you going to finish eating?"

A shrug. "I'm ok. I'm not that hungry."

"...can I have it, if you're not going to eat it?"

Slowly, Takeru flipped the page. "It's all yours."

Patamon dove for it, which elicited another chuckle out of Takeru. He knew that digimon had bottomless pits for stomachs, but Patamon seemed especially hungry today. He skimmed the page again, sponging up the material and hoping it wouldn't leave his brain the moment he laid eyes on his test. He had to remind himself that at least he was _trying _to study.

"Takeru," Patamon said, studying him again.

"Hmm?"

"Do you have to go to school?"

Takeru laughed. "Yeah. Why?"

Patamon deflated. "Oh. I'll just miss you, is all."

His laughter died in his throat as he looked up from his notes. Then, with a strained smile, he reached up to pat his partner's head. "I'll miss you, too, buddy. But it's Friday, and you know what that means?"

Patamon's face lit up. "Weekend?"

"Weekend," Takeru confirmed, his smile expanding a fraction. "Then no school for two whole days! We can do whatever you'd like."

"We can have fun," Patamon said, pushing himself into the air. "Like eat ice cream! Or go to the park! Could we go to the park, Takeru?"

"Of course, buddy."

His eyes shone. "Yay! That's awesome, Takeru! I'm excited. It's lonely without you around."

A softness touched Takeru's expression. He closed his notebook, moving it from his lap to the counter, and reached for Patamon again. Patamon readily came to him, pressing his cheek to Takeru's, all warmth and affection and soft, soft fur.

"It's lonely without you, too," he admitted quietly and it was way too true.

Because most days, his mother was walking out the door right as he woke up. She'd just left barely twenty minutes ago. Most days, she was still gone when he got home. Most days, Yamato was busy with his band and his father was preoccupied at the station. Most days, he entered an apartment that was too big, too empty, despite the fact that it housed two people.

He knew his mother loved him, but with her working so many hours in a week to support them, Patamon was the only one with him. His company was warm and full, and he made the apartment seem warm and full. Like his presence alone was a flashlight a Takeru clung to in the dark. Patamon was his best friend, his security blanket. He was the one Takeru could trust with his darkest secrets. He was the one could see past the smile, could see his loneliness for what it was and let him know that he was never truly by himself, even when it seemed that way.

Patamon smiled, eyes crinkling. "I'm always here when you need me. I promise."

"I know," Takeru murmured. "Thanks, pal."

He patted his head again. He still had a little bit of time before they had to leave for school, he realized, and wasn't sure how to fill it. He could study some more, but he didn't want to bore his partner.

Takeru paused contemplatively, eyes straying to the small television in the front room mere feet away. Then he glanced at Patamon and asked, "You want to watch something?"

"Like what?"

Takeru stood, making his way toward where the remote was and picking it up so he could turn on the television. Handed the remote to Patamon to give the choice before circling back around to the kitchen to grab his notebook again.

When he sat down on the sofa, Patamon was already channel surfing, lingering on some channels longer than others. He eventually decided on some cartoon that Takeru couldn't name, but it rapidly became background noise as Takeru focused on studying for his test.

He was so engrossed in his notes that he almost didn't notice his phone ringing on the counter until Patamon nudged him and pointed. Hastily, he shot up to grab it before he missed the call, but by the time he reached the counter and flipped it open, it was too late.

Takeru blinked in confusion as Miyako's name popped up on the screen. Before he could ponder too deeply on it, however, his phone buzzed to life again in his hands, ringing incessantly. Miyako's name again.

"Must be important if she tried again so soon," he murmured, before hitting the 'call' button. "Mosh—"

"Hey, are you watching the news?" she asked instantly, sounding frantic.

Takeru blinked again, glancing back at where Patamon was sitting on the back of the sofa. "No?"

"Turn it on," she said quickly. "You have to see this."

Still confused, Takeru had no choice but to obey. He propped his cell between his shoulder and cheek as he reached for the remote, throwing an apologetic look in Patamon's direction as he flipped channels.

"Are you there yet?"

"Not quite," he said. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Something really freaky has happened," she answered. "It's—hold on, I think I can see it from here. Look outside. Up at the sky."

The awful feeling he'd spent ignoring for the majority of the morning suddenly spiked, festering, bubbling right underneath his skin. Takeru's heart thundered in his chest, trying to find a way to climb up his throat.

He abandoned the remote to make his way back to the kitchen so he could peer out the window. But that didn't show him anything, so he decided to make way outside, and by then even Patamon had grown concerned.

"Do you see it?"

"I'm heading out now," Takeru replied as he shut off the tv, grabbing his apartment key along the way.

Patamon was by his side instantly, and Takeru didn't have time to worry about what kind of attention his partner's presence would bring. He was out the door, down the hallway, down the stairs. Then he burst out into the open, phone still in hand, gaze moving up, up, up.

The sky was blue. He blinked once more, hearing shuffling on the other side of the phone. "I don't see anything. What's—?"

He turned, taking several steps forward, and his voice died when he saw it.

"Oh," he murmured, throat constricting.

"Yeah," Miyako said, now sounding breathless. "_Oh_."

His eyes were growing larger and larger as he stared in horror at what existed above him. There were dark clouds, twisting and spinning to form a very ominous-looking cyclone that stretched out to cover at least one-fourth of the city. Although it was too high in the sky to touch any buildings in Odaiba, Takeru was chilled to the bone just by looking at it. Patamon came to rest on his head, and his weight was comforting.

The cyclone was pulling in a lot of wind, and it was attracting a lot of attention. In the distance, he could hear screams. People were pointing and shouting questions to the sky. It sounded so dull in Takeru's ears as shock ebbed through him.

In his pocket, his d-terminal beeped.

"—keru? Hey, Takeru. Answer me."

"W-what?" he said intelligently. Belatedly. His voice came out as a croak.

There was a grim pause. "I said I'm coming out. Wait where you are. Iori's coming, too."

Takeru hummed but didn't offer any other kind of response, and even after there was a click that signaled the call had ended, Takeru didn't move his phone from by his ear. He just continued to stare, frozen in place, at the chaos above him, wondering what could have created something so big and horrifying in such a little amount of time.

The answer, he already knew. Past experience told him. Takeru didn't want to accept it.

Three years of peace. Three _whole _years of peace, between Earth and the digital world. Couldn't the universe keep it going? Was that too much to ask? What did this even _mean?_

Footsteps. Loud. Quick. Whoever behind him was running, and they were running fast. Takeru finally lowered his phone away from his head and flipped it shut, but didn't let it fall. It stayed clutched in his hand even when Miyako called out to him. Even when Iori reached him. Takeru's gaze didn't break away from the dark clouds.

"What... what's happening?" he whispered finally.

"The news lady says that 'strange creatures' are lingering around it," Miyako said, air-quoting. "She also says slowly it's getting closer to the city. They have to be digimon. I just can't figure out how it happened, or how they got here."

His d-terminal beeped again. Slowly, gradually, Takeru pulled it out of his pocket. The message was from Koushiro.

_Guys,_

_It seems as though digimon have invaded Earth. There's some sort of break in the barrier between the two worlds, and the break has evolved into something much more dangerous-looking. It's approaching quickly. Something must be done it before causes any lasting damage._

_Respectfully,_

_Izumi Koushiro_

From Mimi: _Yeah. We noticed that._

From Hikari: _What CAN we do about it?_

From Sora: _We should meet up somewhere and go from there. Is everyone doing ok?_

No response had come yet. Takeru's fingers hovered numbly over his keyboard but he wasn't sure what to say. Wasn't sure what do to. He jumped, startled, when it beeped again, and the icon for a new message overwrote his draft.

Miyako wrote, _Takeru, Iori, and I are fine, but I think meeting somewhere is a good idea. Where?_

From Yamato: _I'm good. That thing is__ above the tv station._

From Taichi: _Me and Hikari are __ok.__ Let's meet there. Everyone good with that?_

From Daisuke: _No school? Sounds good to me._

From Miyako: _I'm rolling my eyes at you right now. Thought you should know, Daisuke._

From Jou: _I'm not condoning skipping school, but I see the necessity. I'll be there as soon as I can._

From Sora: _The news says they're closing down the schools for today. All of them have been safely evacuated. Nobody is technically skipping. There's a warning for everyone to stay indoors._ _Stay safe, please!_

From Ken: _It might take me a bit longer to get to Odaiba, but I'll hurry._

From Hikari: _We will. :) you be safe, too!_

The rest of the messages that came through were just farewells, and then the chat died down. Then Iori was resting his hand on Takeru's arm, and Patamon moved from his head to his shoulder.

"Are you ready?" Iori asked, frowning in concern. Upamon looked up at him as well from his place in Iori's other hand.

Takeru nodded, looking back at Miyako who was tucking her d-terminal into her bag. "Great! Let's get a move on. I'm ready to kick some ass."

Any other day, he would have laughed at her excited tone. Today, though, he just hummed in acknowledgment. The terrible feeling was now consuming him, seeping out of his pores. Dread shot through him with the force of a tidal wave, making his knees feel weak.

"Takeru?" Patamon whispered anxiously. "Are you ok?"

"I... I have a feeling about this," he muttered, swallowing hard. "Like something bad is going to happen."

Miyako grinned at him. "We got this. We always have."

"It'll be ok," Iori murmured comfortingly, but his expression betrayed him. He looked like he didn't believe it at all.

Which wasn't reassuring.

Takeru smiled anyway, knowing that negativity wasn't going to help. They needed to stay optimistic about this. Allowing anxiety to control him was like asking for defeat in a situation like this. After all, he was the chosen of Hope.

So, for a second time, he pushed it down, where nobody could see. Further. Further. Buried it like treasure, deep enough that unearthing it would take actual effort.

"Yeah," he murmured, grin expanding a fraction. "Now... how do we get there?"

"I can digivolve and take you there," Patamon suggested.

Poromon leapt out of Miyako's bag. "Yeah! Just say the word!"

Miyako looked ready for a challenge. Immediately, she was reaching for her D3, and Takeru did the same. It wasn't long before Halsemon, Digmon, and Pegasusmon stood before them, and they headed off in the direction of the Odaiba tv station.

_It's a good thing Patamon ate so much this morning. Looks like he's going to need all his energy._

It took less than five minutes to get there. It felt like much longer, with the pointing fingers and wide, curious eyes. The closer they got to the tv station, the stronger the wind seemed to get. Takeru was holding onto Pegasusmon as tightly as he could to avoid being drawn into it himself.

It seemed like they weren't the only ones with the idea of riding on their partners. Koushiro was there, standing by (and looking incredibly small next to) Kabuterimon. He was glancing uneasily between the laptop in his hands and the cyclone that looked much, _much _larger than it had when Takeru and his friends were standing outside their apartment complex.

Pegasusmon landed gracefully on Koushiro's left side, and Takeru asked hesitantly, "Do you know what it is?"

Koushiro's lips were pursed into a thin line. His expression was solemn. "It appears to be some sort of rift. I'm still trying to work out the details on _how _it happened."

Takeru swallowed again, drawing in a deep breath through his nose as he studied Koushiro's computer screen. It was a graphic of what looked like the barrier between Earth and the digital world, complete with coding that Takeru didn't fully understand despite his experience as a Chosen Child.

"Well, I could have told you that," Miyako said, but her voice lacked its usual spunk: a shadow of the confident, determined person who was prepared to take on the world merely minutes before. Now that they were up close to the cyclone, she looked slightly fearful.

He glanced back up at the cyclone, fists clenching and unclenching instinctively when he saw a helicopter getting closer and closer to it. Probably some news anchor trying to get more information. And despite Sora saying that there was a warning to remain indoors, he could see lots of people gathering outside buildings. There were cameras everywhere. Recording. Taking pictures. Like something that had the power to destroy the city was some fascinating phenomena that needed to be documented.

Which was _just _what they needed. Media attention. Great.

Not to mention, it was dangerous. Digimon had a knack for messing with technology, and there had to be multiple people in that helicopter. Takeru felt worry chew on his stomach when he saw a camera flash. While their partners weren't that big in their current form, Kabuterimon was huge. He didn't want their faces plastered all over tv screens for the next couple of weeks.

It wasn't like they had a choice. They had to deal with this thing, and they had to deal with it now.

"It looks like... the digimon are stuck at the very edge," Iori murmured, brows knotted together with concern.

"Yeah," Miyako agreed with a frown. "Like they can't quite break through the barrier."

"I don't think they'll have trouble in a bit," Takeru said quietly. It was like a balloon that just kept getting bigger and bigger until it reached its maximum capacity of air and popped. And when it popped... it was going to be messy.

A flash of blue fur caught his eye. Garurumon. Which meant Yamato was almost here. Relief splintered through him—the faster everyone arrived, the better. And Yamato's presence was forever comforting.

Koushiro's expression was contemplative, his whole body tense. "I agree. They're going to keep pushing until it breaks."

Pegasusmon butted his nose against the palm of Takeru's hand, looking at him with old and wise eyes that he wasn't sure belonged to his partner had he been in child form. Takeru's fingers ghosted across his mane.

"Maybe I should evolve into Angemon?" he asked. "Just in case."

Takeru offered a tiny smile. Maybe that was a good idea. While all of Patamon's forms were considerably strong, Angemon was more still powerful than Pegasusmon. He was also more agile.

"Sure," he said.

Pegasusmon nodded and he was enveloped in a ball of light before reverting back to Patamon. Takeru's D3 beeped and lit up just like his digimon partner had, and it wasn't long before Angemon was standing in Patamon's place.

Another camera flashed. Takeru did his best to ignore it.

"What the hell is that thing?" Yamato's voice asked as Garurumon came to a halt in front of him.

Takeru wished he had an answer. But he didn't. Even Koushiro shrugged, his expression grim. "I have no idea. I haven't heard back from Gennai."

Yamato expelled an impatient sigh. "That's freaking fantastic."

"Tell me about it," Miyako muttered. "And those cameras are giving me the creeps. So much for my secret life as a Chosen Child."

Takeru hummed in quiet agreement.

It took a little under twenty minutes for the rest of their teammates to arrive. Hikari, Agumon, Taichi and came right after Yamato, all three of them riding on Nefertimon. Mimi, Jou, and Sora were next, perched on Birdramon's talons. They must have run into each other onto the streets.

Then Daisuke came in riding on Lighdramon. Last was Ken, cradled in the arms of Stingmon, and it didn't take long for the remainder of the child-level digimon to evolve into something stronger. Soon they were all gathered in a circle, looking skyward, waiting for it to burst.

"That doesn't look good at all," Ken said fretfully.

"My thoughts exactly," Jou said.

Koushiro was now sitting on the ground, hunched over his laptop. There was a hint of frustration in his eyes as he examined his computer screen. "I... I don't understand."

Another camera flash.

Hikari eyed the cyclone anxiously. "Understand what?"

Before Koushiro had a chance to answer, a sudden gust of wind tore through the air. Takeru's gaze snapped upward again, watching the barrier that separated peace from nightmares quiver and quake and crack. Next to him, Angemon stiffened.

"Be prepared to run," he commanded sternly. "All of you."

"He's right," Stingmon said. "Once that thing bursts... you have to find safety. We'll do what we can to protect your city."

Mimi and Jou were coaxing Koushiro off the ground. Yamato took a step closer to Takeru, as did Hikari. They moving closer and closer in a tight-knit circle, watching and waiting, as the barrier stretched itself too thin.

Thinner.

Thinner.

Cracks continued to spiderweb across it as the dark cloud spun and tilted, gradually picking up speed. It was getting closer. Closer. Closer. Takeru's breath was trapped in his throat as the distorted outlines of the digimon trying to escape became clearer, clearer, clearer. Takeru could see bloodshot eyes. Could see disfigured body parts.

_What... what the heck? They don't look like digimon at _all.

Then. Then it ruptured.

The helicopter finally started to retreat, and civilians were screaming, shouting, running. Sirens sounded immediately, stretching over miles of the city. The monsters came flowing out like water out of a dam that had broken, racing toward them in terrifying swarms. Descended upon the city in waves. Over the buildings with rapid speed, all dismembered limbs and bloodthirsty eyes.

Takeru's eyes widened as far as they could, but he was unable to get a proper look at any of them because he felt a hand pulling on him seconds later, ushering him out of their path.

"Takeru," Yamato's voice said. "C'mon, little bro. We have to move. We have to get to safety _now._"

Their partners were attacking immediately, and suddenly everyone was moving. Yamato pulled harder on his arm, half-dragging him, but the awful feeling that just kept coming back no matter much he tried to bury it suddenly exploded, rushing to the surface. Goosebumps pebbled over his skin as numbness crept through his entire body.

There were so many digimon. He could tell immediately that they were vastly outnumbered. They only had twelve digimon on their side, and there were dozens more against them.

Which meant that something truly, dreadfully, irreversibly _bad_ was going about to happen. How could they possibly stand a chance?

"This... this is awful," Taichi panted. "Why... are... there... so many?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Yamato cried.

They kept moving until Takeru's lungs were burning. Until his legs were screaming for rest. Until his body shook from exertion. He wasn't sure entirely how long they were running, but he was too distracted to keep track of the minutes. Beside him, Yamato was panting, holding his wrist in a death grip, like he was afraid he'd lose Takeru if he wasn't physically touching him.

Suddenly they veered to the left. Takeru stumbled and Yamato's arm came up to steady him, pressing him against the wall of an unidentifiable building. He drew in breath after breath, the only thing keeping him from drifting into unconsciousness being the adrenaline that flowed through him.

Sora was panting, pointing at each of them and murmuring something under her breath. Probably doing a headcount. Takeru's gaze hazily swept over the group, counting Yamato. Taichi. Hikari. Mimi. Jou. Koushiro. Iori. Ken. Daisuke. Miyako. And, of course, Sora.

"Good, everyone's here," she said breathlessly, rubbing the sweat off her forehead. "I'm so glad..."

A horrifying screech sounded above them. Takeru glanced skyward again just in time to see a monster zoom over them, with disproportionately large wings and no lower body. Its cry was distorted and choppy like he was hearing it through a computer with terrible speakers.

"What even _are _those things?" Miyako asked as she took in gulps of air, her voice laced with hysteria. "They're too Frankenstein-y to be digimon!"

"They... they look like they.. could be Airdramon," Koushiro said, eyes wide. "But I've never seen them disfigured like this. Could... could their data be corrupted, somehow?"

"That would explain why they're acting so violently," Jou murmured contemplatively.

"But what do we do about them?" Mimi wondered. "Our digimon can't hold them off for long. They're going to be overwhelmed soon!"

That much was true. Takeru said, "They'll destroy half the city if we don't hurry and come up with something."

Hikari nodded. "And... and even if they're data _is _corrupted... how did they get here?"

A fiery blast sounded overhead before anyone could offer an answer. An ear-splitting cry of pain.

Takeru inched his way to the edge of the building, risking a glance out there. Yamato was right by him, holding onto his shoulders, but curiosity had gotten the best of him as well. They had to see what was happening.

"Right now, I don't think it's a matter of _how _they got here," Jou said. "We can figure that out later. What we need to know now is how to get rid of them before the whole city is leveled! People's homes could be destroyed. They could be killed."

Takeru's stomach clenched at the thought. There were dozens of deformed monsters out there, and the rift had yet to close. More were going coming.

"Sora, didn't you say the schools were evacuated?" Ken asked. When she nodded, he persisted, "They had to have done that with other buildings, too. I don't think—"

The ground shook, cutting off Ken's words. Takeru's fingers gripped the wall behind him so tightly that the skin on his knuckles was stretched white. Yamato's hold on his shoulders tightened.

"Did you see the other people out on their balconies, on their phones?" Miyako asked. "They didn't seem to care about getting hurt."

Takeru's lips pursed into a thin line. He tried looking out again, hoping to see how their partners were faring. His stomach squeezed again when he saw another digimon—this one with smaller wings and no mouth—ram right into Birdramon's side.

Birdramon cried out in surprise, able to stop her fall just before she took down a bridge, and hurled her Meteor Wing at it. Takeru's eyes popped when it disintegrated in seconds.

"They're so easy to kill," he breathed out quietly in wonder.

Iori sputtered. "Wh...what?"

"There are so many, but they're not that powerful," he pointed out, looking back at them. "Birdramon took one out in one hit."

"If... if they _are _Airdramon," Koushiro began, "then they're only Adult-level digimon. However..."

Takeru didn't like the sound of that. "What?"

"Well... if they continue to grow in number, Mimi's right," Koushiro continued gravely. "They'll overwhelm our digimon soon. Our partners aren't invincible. They'll run out of strength soon enough."

"Way to kill our optimism, Koushiro," Miyako said, giving him a frosty look.

"I'm just stating the fa—"

Another ghastly shriek. Takeru winced, hands coming up to cover his ears, and even Yamato flinched at the sound. His brother said, "Whatever! Let's just come up with a damn plan, ok? This can't go on forever!"

"Could... could we destroy rift?" Ken suggested, looking as uneasy as the rest of them. "I mean, logically, if the gate's gone, then more can't come through."

"But _how?_" Mimi inquired. "How do we get our digimon's attention to tell them that? They're all preoccupied at the moment."

Takeru glanced worriedly up at the sky as if it had the answer. As if one of their partners would miraculously be passing by overhead. As if they could find some way to act as a signal. They were all tiny in comparison to the city, and not to mention, the corrupted digimon were chaotically, head-splittingly _loud. _There was no way they'd be heard over them.

_What do we do?_

Another cry of pain tore through the air as soon as that thought crossed his mind, and Takeru went still.

Because that cry sounded hauntingly similar to Angemon.

Against his better judgment, Takeru started moving. He jerked free from his brother's hold, desperate to see if it really was his partner. He didn't like the idea of _anyone's _partner being in pain, but the thought of Angemon injured made him feel violently sick.

His stomach plummetted when he saw that multiple disfigured Airdramon had isolated him from the rest of their partners. They were attacking and attacking and _attacking _without giving Angemon a chance to retaliate. Like Angemon had done something to personally offend them. Like he was a nuisance that needed to be terminated.

Takeru shuddered. The ground quaked again and people were still screaming. Sirens were still going, echoing, stretching over the entirety of the city.

And Angemon's body was enveloped in a blinding white light before he reverted back to Patamon, and before Takeru knew it he was shooting down from the sky like a tiny meteor.

_Please._

"No," he whispered in denial, and just as he started running toward them, he felt hands on his arms. "No, no, no... let me go! Let me _go! _They're hurting Angemon!"

"Shhh, shh, Takeru." Yamato's voice was too quiet compared to deafening blows exchanged in the fight unfolding in front of them. "Takeru, stop. _Stop. _Please, let's get you back here before they see you, ok? Ok?"

"He's _hurt_," Takeru persisted.

"I know. I know, Takeru, but you can't go out there. You'll get hurt, too. Just wait a while. He'll get up."

But he didn't. Wind snapped and hissed and whirled around the two brothers as Takeru stared, stared, stared. Dust and debris were flying everywhere, and he didn't see Patamon rise out of any of it. Takeru's heart sank deeper and deeper from its usual place behind his ribcage as he resisted his brother's hold, twisted and fought and shoved protective fingers away, aching to hold Patamon, to get him out of the battle.

_Not him._

Nefertimon let out an anguished cry that hung above them, loud enough for everyone to hear, as she deflected an attack and dove after Patamon's fallen body. Takeru went still in shock, watching her dip between buildings and waiting for her to come back up. She didn't.

"She's going to get him," Yamato said gently, trying to coax him back into their hiding place. He pulled on Takeru's hand. "C'mon, Takeru. Please."

Another pair of hands rested on his body. Taichi's voice said, "Buddy, we know you're worried. But even if we can't protect him right now, we can protect _you_ from getting hurt."

"He's hurt," Takeru repeated, over and over again, like some kind of charm that could protect him. "Nii-san, this is bad. It's bad. Patamon's hurt."

"I know," Yamato whispered into his hair, his voice like a gentle sea breeze compared to the tsunami of noise around them.

_You have to get up._

Gradually, eventually, finally, Taichi and Yamato brought Takeru back to their hiding place, but Takeru's eyes remained glued to the place where Nefertimon disappeared. He waited. Waited. Waited.

Nefertimon expelled another heartbreaking cry, as if calling for help. Takeru watched in horror, now frozen in place, as Stingmon disintegrated a few disfigured Airdramon before swooping down to her aid.

When they both came back up, Patamon's body was still glowing.

Yamato inhaled sharply, fingers slackening their hold on his shirt, and he wasn't the only one. Several of his team members gasped at the sight.

Digivolution wasn't supposed to last this long.

"No," Takeru murmured woodenly, shaking his head. "P-please... Not again. Not again..."

Nefertimon acted as a bodyguard as Stingmon looked around for a place where Patamon could rest safely. And Iori said tentatively, "Takeru... your D3."

But Takeru could not look away. Patamon was still aglow in Stingmon's arms. When Takeru did not verbally respond, Yamato reached into his pocket, pulling out his D3, revealing that it, too, was glowing brightly.

"What's going on?" he heard Mimi murmur. "Why isn't he turning back to normal?"

_Not again,_ echoed endlessly in his mind. _Please be ok. Please move._

Stingmon noticed the light from Takeru's D3 almost immediately, and it wasn't long before several of their partners were covering him as he made his way to the group of Chosen. Tears gathered in Takeru's eyes as Stingmon gently placed Patamon's body in his trembling hands.

"P-Pata...?" he croaked out, sniffling. "Patamon, please... please be ok..."

_Not again._

_Not again._

_This can't be happening again._

_Not here._

His knees buckled, barely able to keep him standing. A few moments later he was crashing toward the ground, clutching his partner tightly. Yamato followed him instantly but Takeru barely registered his presence. His focus was trained on Patamon and Patamon alone.

"Stingmon," Ken said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was quiet but stern. "Tell the others they need to shift targets. Destroy the source."

"Right," he said with an affirmative nod. Then he eyed Patamon forlornly like he knew what the end result to be. A lump formed in Takeru's throat that he couldn't swallow, and Stingmon promised, "We'll finish this as quickly as we can."

An attack sounded overhead. Stingmon disappeared back into the battle.

"I-is he...?" Daisuke began dreadfully.

"No." Takeru shook his head once again in denial, hysteria drenching his voice. "No. H-he can't... not again... Patamon, listen to me." His shoulders quivered as he tried to keep his tears at bay. "N-not here, Pata. Please. Say something."

Patamon never responded.

Then, as suddenly and as quickly as rapidly as the deformed monsters had invaded Earth, the bright light of his partner and D3 started to fade, and Takeru only caught a small glimpse of Patamon's orange fur before his whole body started to dissolve into thin air.

_No, no, no, no—_

It didn't feel real.

Shock rippled through Takeru, one limb at a time, seeping deep into long stretches of muscle and bone. Very cold. Cold enough to numb him to the core. In the span of an hour, his whole world had shifted and flipped, crumbling like the ashes of a cigarette.

It was as if everything around him faded. The sirens, the roaring of the wind, the primal screeches of the Airdramon and the rest of their partners... it all went mute. He couldn't feel Yamato's hands on him. Couldn't feel the ground beneath him. Couldn't feel the weight of his friends' heartbroken expressions.

He couldn't feel _anything._

Even as people screamed and screamed and screamed.

Even as the rest of their digimon pulled away from the swarms to aim their attacks at the sky.

Even as the whole city seemed to quake with the force of its impact.

Even as light swept over them, seeping through every crevice, every corner, every building. Even as it blinded almost everyone. Takeru was crying and he couldn't even care.

The whole city could have erupted into flames and Takeru wouldn't notice.

Because his partner, his best friend, his other half... was gone.

And this time, he wasn't coming back.


	2. Irreparable

**disclaimer/tw: **ok, I have to get this out of the way now—nothing in this story is meant to be taken as realistic or canonically accurate. Especially at the end of the story. That said, trigger warning for **implied/referenced ****character** **death** and **grief. **This chapter also includes mild language because I'm impolite and like to curse a lot.

**a/n:** sorry for the unexpected delay. I didn't expect it either. I'll try to get the next ch out faster! Reviews are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading. 💛

* * *

**Ch 02 || Irreparable**

The reconstruction was going to take weeks. Maybe even months.

After the rift had been decimated, the corrupted digimon went with it. What was left was heartwrenching—parts of the city had been utterly destroyed, with rubble everywhere. Police and firefighters were scouring the streets, filling the air with a haunting symphony of sirens and frantic shouts of the civilians.

Their digimon had been quick to devolve into their child forms and running back towards their respective Chosen, lest they catch any more attention than they already had in the battle. Cameras were flashing. Reporters were everywhere, desperate to find out more details on the digimon attack.

And Takeru...

"We need to get out of here," someone said, sounding close to her. It sounded vaguely like Jou. Hikari did not move or even acknowledge the voice. "Fast."

"It feels awful, just running after what happened," another voice said, almost hollowly. Mimi. "They'll want answers."

"Answers we can't _give,_" Taichi said, sounding grave and solemn simultaneously. "We destroyed the source and stopped the rampage, yeah, but we still have no idea how it happened. We're better off leaving until we're ready to take on this mess."

"Where would we go, though?" Miyako asked, her voice thick with tears.

"Maybe the digital world?" Koushiro suggested. "Perhaps we could get ahold of Gennai and—"

Hikari's stomach tied itself into knots. Tighter. Tighter. Like stones in her stomach, heavy and painful, and they just seemed to grow bigger as she finally willed herself to look around in search of her best friend.

Takeru was still on the ground in the same position he had been in since before the blast. His expression was completely blank. Schooled. Like every ounce of emotion had been stripped from him. Yamato was kneeling next to him, an arm threaded around Takeru's shoulders, looking just as lost as his brother. His face was ashen, eyes blown wide into small dinner plates.

Yamato, who had always been so calm and collected, looked the exact opposite at this moment.

And Takeru, Hikari's best friend, who was like a warm beam of sunshine on her darkest days, who found hope in the bleakest of situations... looked completely, dreadfully, irrevocably _drained _of hope itself.

She did not realize she was crying until a warm softness pressed itself against her leg. Her head moved mechanically, meeting Tailmon's soulful, haunted eyes. Tears were pooling in her partner's eyes, too. They welled and rolled, and that was Hikari's downfall. A sob crawled out of her throat and pushed itself free, quiet in comparison to the sounds consuming the world around her, but still raw and unrestrained.

Despite the chaos thundering around them, despite the cameras that seemed to come from every direction, Hikari couldn't focus on them. She felt her knees buckle underneath her, and willed herself not to fall. This was not her loss to grieve, and yet... seeing that wooden expression on Takeru's face... it floored her in a way she did not expect.

A hand touched the small of her back, keeping her upright. Hikari did not look to see who it was. Instead, her gaze was trapped on the broken blond boy sitting a few feet away from her, unmoving, like a statue. Like his whole body had been replaced with stone.

She wanted to move toward him. She wanted to embrace him, do _something _to wipe that painfully numb look off his face, but her feet would not move. She was paralyzed, rooted in place, like her lower limbs had forgotten how to function at all.

"We should leave."

The words came out flatly. Robotically. She almost didn't hear them. Hikari searched his expression, trying to find some hint of emotion, but there was nothing. He was staring, glassy-eyed, at his hands that were empty and tremoring.

"Takeru—" Yamato began, finally snapping out of his trance.

"No." Takeru swallowed visibly, keeping his gaze down. "I don't... I don't want to be here anymore. Let's just go."

Hikari blinked back another onset of fresh tears. It seemed wrong to cry when Takeru wasn't. It seemed wrong to sob when Takeru wasn't. It just... this whole day felt _awful _and there was nothing she could do to fix it.

"Alright," Yamato said faintly, his voice barely audible over the storm of sound raging on around them. Hikari didn't want to look at how many people were looking at them. At how many people were still recording. The world was a slew of flashing red and blue sirens, of screaming, of panic and mayhem. This was a city that had just released a breath that it had been holding for a long time, lost and terrified in the wake of all this destruction. Destruction that had happened in less than an hour's time.

"I'll... I'll set up my computer again. It's back in my bag, but it should only take a minute," Koushiro said, and Hikari heard distant shuffling. Like he was reaching for said device.

"Ok, be quick," Sora said in a hushed tone. "That news helicopter is back and I think it's heading toward us."

"Oh, yeah, please hurry," Daisuke said, voice strained, matching Sora's volume. "I—I don't like this at all."

The group descended into silence as Koushiro worked, and Hikari's heart plummetted when she saw the news anchor growing closer to them. Closer. Closer.

"Koushiro," Yamato hissed demandingly in warning less than ten seconds later. "You better be almost done, or I swear to—"

Light enveloped them, warm and all-consuming, but the welcoming feeling was deceitful. In moments, Hikari was nauseous, her stomach flipping and twisting as her entire body became digital. No matter how many times she went through this portal, there was nothing she could do to ease the sickness that wracked her once she arrived on the other side.

"I got you, Hikari," Tailmon's voice whispered soothingly before she even _thought_ of opening her eyes. "I've got you."

Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground. The grass beneath her was crisp but she couldn't seem to feel it. Couldn't really register any of her surroundings.

"Thank goodness," Mimi whispered in a voice that cracked like pieces of glass put underneath too much weight. "I'm... I've never been so relieved for silence in my life..."

Her words were met with another round of painful, bone-crushing silence. There was something they weren't addressing—something agonizingly obvious, something that Hikari didn't want to be the first to speak up about—and her heart squeezed again when she finally caught a glimpse of Takeru again.

He was still on the ground, but Yamato was no longer holding him. He just hovered near him like a confused moth, but even when Yamato finally reached out to touch his shoulder once more, Takeru didn't respond. His eyes were distant and glossy still, webbed with fatigue and shock. Not a hint of acknowledgment flickered in his expression. It was as though no one was around him at all.

Which made Hikari feel violently ill.

Takeru was always openly affectionate, physically and verbally. She'd known him for years—over half a decade. He always melted into someone's touch—especially those he was close to—like he could never get enough of it. Never had she seen him look so... so _empty._

She wished she knew what to say. She wished she could help. But she couldn't do anything but just _sit there _and watch this voiceless, unrecognizable version of her best friend quake and crumble, stitching himself into someone he was not. She couldn't tell him she understood because she didn't. She couldn't tell him it would get better because it wouldn't. The only one that could _possibly _reassure him, that could tell him everything would be ok, was gone forever.

Her throat constricted, cutting off her breath, but she did not allow more tears to break free. No. Not now. It wasn't fair. Not to Takeru.

The idea of losing Tailmon was unfathomable. The mere thought sent spiderwebs of dread through her, leaving her uncomfortably cold and unsettled. She couldn't even begin to understand how Takeru must have felt.

"Buddy," Yamato murmured finally, not sounding like himself at all. He was worried. Vulnerable. _Scared_. "Takeru, hey."

"You..." Takeru stopped, inexplicably hesitant. He was inhumanly still, like a puppet whose strings were pulled taut. "You don't think that he could be... here, do you? His egg?"

It felt like her heart was in an endless loop of missing that last step of the staircase. Jolting. Sputtering. Dropping. Shattering. And all over again, caught in limbo, the cycle repeating over and over, like a video set to replay the second it finished.

"I..." Yamato's voice broke, and Hikari already knew why. Because it would be cruel to give Takeru a false sense of hope, and she couldn't imagine being the one to break that news to him. Finally, tremulously: "I—I don't think so, Teek."

Takeru inhaled slowly. His breath came out in uneven sputters, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. "Can we... look still?"

"Takeru..." Sora hedged forlornly, sounding ready to cry herself.

Yamato patted his back, looking like he wanted to hold him, but was unsure how Takeru would react if he acted on that wish. "Of course we can, little bro."

Hikari was crawling toward him without even realizing that she was doing it. The grass scratched against her bare knees as she moved, breath hitching as she struggled not to burst into tears. Her nose burned and her eyes stung anew. Still, she pushed herself forward until she reached his side, pressing her cheek to his, an arm threading awkwardly around his shoulder.

Tailmon followed her. She climbed into Takeru's lap without hesitation, tears streaking her fur as she leaned against his chest. Gabumon was next, pressing his head against Takeru's arm, resting a paw on his knee.

Piyomon followed soon after. And Palmon. Gomamon. Armidillomon. Agumon. Wormmon. V-mon. Hawkmon. They gathered around him like a comforting blanket, offering their condolences in the only way they knew how—through touch.

"I'm so sorry," Hikari whispered. Even to her, the words sounded hollow. "I'm so, so sorry, Takeru... I wish I could have stopped it."

Her ears tracked a sob, but the sound did not come from Takeru, who was stiff as wood. It was like some sort of veil had fallen—people started crying freely. Yamato wrapped his arms around them both as sobs and sniffles echoed around them.

It felt like a funeral. But no words were said. There were no happy stories to tell. No celebratory experiences to share. Just aching, soul-crushing sadness, a loss from which she knew Takeru would never heal. This, she knew, was wound that would pulse and throb and eat at him for as long as time would allow. He would never fully recover, no matter what they did or said.

She could see it in his eyes, in his unresponsive body. In the way he had yet to return her embrace. They didn't just lose Patamon.

They'd lost a piece of Takeru, too.

"We'll help you look, Takeru," Gabumon vowed thickly. "We'll search until you're ready to stop."

Still, Takeru said nothing. Each second that he was silent was a new dent carved permanently into her heart, but she held onto him still, hoping—_pleading_—for a response.

Then, eventually, finally: "Ok."

The single word phased through her skin. Wrapped around her veins in icy ropes, an unwelcome, cancerous weight inside her body. Heavy. Tight. Constricting. Hikari swallowed, unsure of how long she could ignore it. "I could help, too, if... if you want?"

Takeru expelled another long, slow breath. "N-no. Koushiro said... that you guys have to speak with Gennai."

His rejection hurt so deeply that the impact might as well have been physical. But she understood, as best as she was able, what his reasons were. That still didn't mean it wasn't painful.

"Right," Hikari murmured despite this, nodding numbly. She pulled away to wipe her tears away. "That's... of course, Takeru. Right."

She wasn't in the condition to speak with Gennai about what happened. It had all happened so fast—one moment she was getting ready for school, and the next, Taichi was calling her over to show her what was on the news and they were heading out into a chaotic mess, unprepared and not knowing what they were getting themselves into.

Taichi walked over to them to help her to her feet, glancing sorrowfully at Takeru who had barely moved. She desperately wished she could rewind time, if only to make sure that Takeru never looked like this again. Like this... this pale, vacant shell of a person.

"Stay with him," she told Tailmon quietly. "Please."

Tailmon glanced at her for a few seconds before nodding mutely. The rest of their partners were hesitant to move, too. Yamato refused to leave his side as well. Like they all wanted to stay with Takeru until he decided to get up and head toward the Village of Beginnings. She didn't blame them.

Which, Hikari realized belatedly, wasn't far away. She swallowed again, this time with more difficulty, wondering if Koushiro had done that on purpose. She would have thought it was an accident—he was rushed, after all, and must have clicked a location without really looking. Despite the circumstances, the Village of Beginnings was a fairly safe and peaceful place.

Still. Arriving near the Village of Beginnings was simultaneously unfair to Takeru and, perhaps, for the best. He wanted to look for Patamon, after all. Just like Yamato, she couldn't bring herself to say no, even if it broke her heart into pieces.

"I'll see about getting ahold of him through my computer," Koushiro said softly, "so we don't have to travel all that way to meet him."

Hikari hummed noncommittally. That made sense. They weren't in shape for walking long distances, anyway—not after running so much to avoid getting smashed or attacked by the corrupted digimon back on Earth. She couldn't remember how it worked. It had been far too long. Didn't remember if they could just send him messages. Did Koushiro even have any form of internet connection?

She spared one more tearful glance in Takeru's direction before allowing her brother to guide her away.

* * *

They'd only walked for about twenty minutes before Koushiro made them stop. It seemed like he'd found a place to plug in his laptop to charge—somewhere Hikari couldn't name but vaguely recognized. She hadn't been paying too much attention to where they were going, so it was a little jarring to look around and find that they'd traveled inside somewhere with an outlet.

She blinked in hazy confusion as Taichi held her still, halting her mechanical steps. Her head was pounding from her spell of tears, eyes swollen, heart running on empty. Her knees locked as a feeling of unease swam through her body.

"What's wrong?" Miyako asked quietly, seeming just as on-edge.

"Oh, it's just..." Koushiro paused, a frown surfacing on his face. "Gennai answered my message."

Hikari couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It should have been _good, _but the uneasy feeling just doubled in size upon hearing those words, and she swallowed nervously. Koushiro wasn't happy about it, which only made it worse.

Taichi, with more of a voice, asked grimly, "What'd he say?"

Koushiro's frown deepened. "Hold on. Give me a second."

He shifted his weight, carefully moving his laptop into one hand before sinking to the ground. Clicked and tapped the keys. Then continued, "He says that the digimon with the corrupted data were so large in numbers that, when they attacked the barrier between the dimensions, it could only hold for so long before it burst."

"Well, we figured that part out," Miyako muttered. "I mean, hello, we were there when it happened."

Daisuke sank down to the ground as well, looking uncertain and upset. "Some help this guy is, telling us what we already know."

Silence bled around them, thick and unwanted. It was only broken when Iori asked quietly, "What caused them to... become corrupted?"

Koushiro was now bent over his keyboard, typing in a quick-paced rhythm. "Digimon are like computer files. When a file downloads incorrectly, or is interrupted during the process of transferring, it develops errors or won't run properly. This could be caused by anything—sudden loss of power, if the database is too large, computer viruses, et cetera, et cetera. It's the same for digimon. Once they're born or reborn, their data is stored in an egg. If their data is corrupted during the process of birth or rebirth, it could cause them to act violently or look different than they usually do."

"Like Diablomon," Taichi said solemnly.

Koushiro nodded. "Yes. Exactly."

The words made Hikari feel very cold. Like her insides had been replaced with ice, spreading, spreading, spreading. Fracturing. Down her neck, all the way to her toes. She whispered, "...how did they all get in the same area?"

Koushiro paused again, fingers hovering over his keyboard, before leaning back with a sigh. "In order to keep peace in the digital world, Gennai isolated the corrupted digimon in a confined space so they wouldn't hurt the normal, healthy digimon. Like quarantining a virus to prevent it from infecting others. The space was overflowing because there were too many. A hard drive only has so much storage space, and since it was holding more than it was built to, it crashed. Or, in this case, exploded. My best guess is that, because they couldn't break into the digital world, they forced their way onto Earth."

"But this won't happen again, right?" Mimi asked fearfully. "We destroyed them."

"Yes, I think it is unlikely to happen again. At least, not any time soon." He pursed his lips. "It has to be an isolated incident. Gennai said that he'll be more careful next time."

Another heavy pause followed his answer. Even with her brother's warm hands on her shoulders, she couldn't shake the icy feeling in her body. It continued to grow colder. Colder. Colder. Cold enough to leave her trembling.

"We can't tell Takeru that," she said in a voice that was hollow.

"Can't tell him what?" Ken inquired softly.

"That he lost Patamon because of a mishap on Gennai's part." She swallowed again, not meeting anyone's eyes. "It'll break what's left of him."

It probably came out rude. She didn't mean to sound so harsh, but she couldn't feel any sympathy for someone who hurt her best friend so deeply that he shut down emotionally. Even if it wasn't intentional, it sounded like this was Gennai's mistake, and now Takeru—and the rest of the people who called Odaiba their home—were forced to suffer the consequences.

She hated herself for thinking that he should pay because that wouldn't make anything better. Bitterness ate away at people until they were consumed entirely, until every last shred of happiness was gone.

But she couldn't help it. She hoped he felt guilty. If... if Gennai had kept a better eye on things, would Patamon still be here? Then Takeru would be happy. Then she wouldn't feel so lost and helpless.

She was starting to think that it was a good thing they hadn't traveled all the way to his house, that Koushiro was communicating with him through email. She didn't know what would happen if she saw him in person.

"Hey," Daisuke said suddenly, eyes red and glossy. "When... right before Patamon... right when he... you know." A troubled, uneasy look crawled over his face. "Takeru kept saying 'not again.' What... what did he mean by that?"

This time, the silence that followed wasn't just heavy. It was oozing tension, so thick that it felt like it was a physical substance in the air, inching closer and closer to Hikari, ready to slither into her airways and choke her. Her gaze swept around the group, seeing how everyone had gone unnaturally still—even her brother, who stood behind her and refused to let go even after Koushiro's disturbing news.

"I... I don't think that's our story to tell, Daisuke," Jou answered finally, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

"It feels wrong, gossiping about him when he's not with us," Sora murmured, her expression uncharacteristically dark.

"...oh." Daisuke rubbed his arm meekly. "Right. I'm sorry. I was just... I was wondering."

"No, honey," Sora went on, shaking her head, shooting him a sad, tiny smile. "Don't be sorry. It's alright to be curious."

"This isn't the first time Patamon died."

Hikari's breath left her the instant Mimi finished her sentence, and she wasn't the only one. A series of shocked gasps rippled through the group. She was freezing now, cold all the way to her fingertips, tears filling her eyes once again. She felt like her knees were going give out on her for the third time today.

"Mimi," Jou hissed, looking at her in disapproval. "What did we _just _say?"

"I know, I know," she said, bestowing him with a sharp look of her own. "But... don't you think it's better that they know? It... it could help him recover, potentially."

Jou still didn't back down. "But it's not our secret—"

"I didn't even know he kept it a secret," Taichi interrupted suddenly, so quietly that Hikari wasn't sure if the rest of them heard it or not. "But... it makes sense that he wouldn't tell anyone."

"...why?" Miyako whispered.

"Back then, we didn't know that his data would get reconfigured," Taichi said with a half-shrug. "It was our first big battle in the digital world, and Devimon... he was so powerful. The only one who was strong enough to beat him was Angemon, and it took all of his energy. He sacrificed himself to save everyone. For a few minutes, we thought he wasn't coming back. It was... really sad, seeing Takeru cry. He was years younger than all of us. It's not something you'd want to talk about, you know?"

Everyone remained silent. Hikari blinked, drawing in a shuddering breath. This time, Patamon _wasn't _coming back. Wizarmon's sacrifice and ghostly appearance years ago cemented that belief. Any digimon who lost their life on Earth couldn't come back. Their data wouldn't be recycled into an egg.

_I'm sorry, Takeru, _she thought again, but each time the words crossed her mind, the emptier they felt. It was out of her control, but she was still sorry. What was she supposed to do when her best friend lost the one closest to him?

"That's... that's awful," Ken said in a strangely distant voice. His eyes were foggy as if reliving an unpleasant memory. "He must have felt..."

The sentence was left hanging, and nobody made an attempt to finish it. It hit her that, while they had all lost dear friends in the midst of many battles, Ken was the only one who truly knew how it felt to lose a partner. Of course he would be reliving it.

She watched as Daisuke slid an arm around Ken's shoulders and squeezed, his expression despondent and sorrowful. Ken glanced at him for only a moment, relaxing slowly, but the frown on his face and the glazed look in his eyes did not fade.

Hikari understood why Takeru _would _keep that information to himself. She didn't blame him—she couldn't even bring herself to feel hurt over not knowing, not like she'd felt hurt when Takeru had declined her offer to help. And to hear that this was the second time... Hikari could only hope that Tailmon's presence could offer some semblance of comfort.

"Did you tell Gennai?" Miyako asked, her voice still wavering as she looked at Koushiro. "About... about Patamon."

Koushiro pursed his lips, uncharacteristically hesitant. "Not yet."

"You should," Hikari said, looking stubbornly at the ground.

"Ah... right," Koushiro said quietly, and then the sound of keys tapping reached her ears again.

"Well... what do we do now?" Iori asked, hesitant and uncertain.

No one answered, at first. Koushiro continued to type for the next thirty or so seconds, eyes glued to his screen, but then his fingers stilled, and he released a small sigh. "I'll let you guys know what he says next."

Hikari finally slid free from her brother's grip, dropping to the ground. Taichi was quick to follow, making sure she didn't fall too fast, but it was still hard to feel his skin on hers. Everything still felt mind-numbingly cold. She was torn between aching to go home and wanting to stay in the digital world, because once they returned to Earth they'd have to face the media, the destruction, their _parents_...

Hikari stifled a shudder. Her parents had been in the room watching the news alongside her and her brother, and they were there when they raced out the door. Her mother wasn't too happy about her children going out to face danger—but what parent would be, when their kid was walking out the door without the promise of return? They hadn't had a choice; Hikari and Taichi had the duties as Chosen Children sitting on their shoulders. They couldn't ignore what was going on. They had to at least _try _to keep the city safe.

So she'd hugged them both, kissed their cheeks, and gave them a teary "be safe" before they were on their way to deal with the corrupted digimon. But she had no idea how her friends' parents had reacted. Did some of them sneak out? Did they even know what had happened at all? She couldn't imagine how heartbreaking it would be to know that the city was under attack and not have any idea where your child was.

She also couldn't imagine leaving here. Sure, they couldn't stay here forever—they'd eventually need to tell their families where they were, and where they had been. But even though the atmosphere bled tension, it was blessedly _quiet. _No screaming civilians. No deafening police sirens. No whirring helicopters, inching closer and closer to them, cameras held steady, as they bombarded them with questions...

"It'll be a wreck when we get back," she murmured, her words splitting through the silence like an axe. "How will we escape the media?"

"I... I don't think we'll be able to," Jou answered, swallowing hard. "Not unless we stay indoors at all times. And even then, there were cameras everywhere, even before the barrier popped. Our faces are no doubt going to be all over the news."

The idea was beyond unsettling. She was glad that she was now on the ground—her body felt drained almost completely of energy, and this conversation was delivering blow after blow and was only going to get worse, leaving her anxious and distraught with no guarantee of recovery. Even when the media's excitement died down, she'd still be known as one of the kids who fought against otherworldly monsters.

Which meant no privacy. How long could they hide in their homes? How much protection would they provide? Would they be chased out of their apartments, too? The damage done to the city, from what she could see from the alleyway in which they were hiding, had been devastating. While the corrupted digimon had been terrorizing Odaiba for a maximum of twenty minutes, each second dragged by, lasting what felt like hours.

The thought of Patamon's death being caught on camera made her feel sick.

Because then Takeru would have to see it over and over. It would be immortal, broadcasted on the news multiple times. He would always be reminded. How would he recover if the weight of his partner's permanent death dangled in front of him at the click of a button?

He wouldn't. It was as painfully simple as that.

"We won't know for sure until we go back," Sora said, expelling a slow, patient sigh.

"Can we stay here, for just a little while?" Miyako pleaded hopefully. "I... I know I'm being selfish, but I don't want to go back yet."

"That's not selfish of you," Mimi said, moving closer so she could wrap her arms around her in an a loose embrace. "I feel the same way. It's... pretty jarring. I woke up this morning telling myself I didn't want to go to school, but... it's one of those instances of 'be careful what you wish for', you know?"

Miyako nodded mutely as she returned Mimi's embrace. She took off her glasses to wipe them clean, sniffling. "I'd be willing to do homework all throughout our holidays if it meant this didn't happen."

Hikari silently agreed. Any punishment or unexpected assignment would be better than this. She'd sacrifice all of her free time if it meant that Patamon was safe and alive. If it meant that her best friend wouldn't have to feel the crushing weight of this loss.

"I'd say we stay here for at least a couple more hours," Taichi decided in a solemn voice. "If anyone is hungry, we can always hunt down some fish or fruit."

There were low murmurs of acknowledgment and agreement. Hikari bit her lip nervously, and then said, "Takeru will probably search until he's worn himself out."

"...that's true," Taichi mumbled. "He'll look and look until Yamato pries him off the cribs."

"He and Patamon were very close," Iori said faintly, expression schooled. Added, "I've... I've never seen him look like that before. Angry, yes. Upset, yes. But not... nothing like this."

"He's probably in shock," Jou said, looking just as unnerved and uncomfortable as Hikari felt. "I don't blame him."

Another silence drifted over them like a blanket of cold, dreary mist that foretold an awful storm. The air was heavy with apprehension again, and even though they were in the shelter of this vaguely familiar building, outside the sun was shining. It felt like it should be raining.

"I'm glad Yamato's with him," Sora said eventually, her voice thick. "And... and our digimon. He needs some company, even if he... doesn't show it."

"He'll heal," Taichi murmured, although he didn't sound too confident in his own words. "It'll... it'll take a long time, but he'll heal."

"What if he doesn't?" Hikari's voice broke. "I wish that I could help him. I just... we've lost him, too, don't you see that? Patamon is his whole world. H-he's always upset when our digimon take breaks from being on Earth and go home to refuel. Like... like he's lonely without him. He'll never—" Her shoulders shook with the strain of holding back another waterfall of tears. "He'll never be the same."

Taichi's hand came to rest on her knee in a soothing gesture, but she didn't acknowledge it. Her words were heartbreakingly, disturbingly true.

"You're right," Mimi said waveringly. "He's... and there's nothing we can do."

"All we can do is offer our support," Sora said softly. "He... he probably won't want it right now, but we can't just give up."

Right then and there, Hikari made a silent vow to herself that she would do whatever it took to help Takeru. She would be there whenever she could. But with that promise came a crippling wave of self-doubt—would Takeru accept her help? Would he push her away? He'd so quickly turned her down before.

She'd try. She'd keep trying and trying until she physically couldn't. Because even if this hadn't happened, Takeru deserved someone who wouldn't give up on him. He deserved unwavering love and affection and support, and as his best friend, she'd do what she could to give that to him.

_I won't let you down, Takeru, _she promised him internally.

Suddenly a chiming sound rippled through the group. Koushiro—who had been silent for quite some time—perked up a little. "I got a response."

"And...?" Taichi hedged.

Koushiro's eyes flicked over his screen, and as he read the email, his expression darkened, becoming laced with uncertainty. "He says... that he'd like to meet in person. Takeru included."

"No," Hikari said instantly before anyone else had the chance to speak. "There's no way he'll see him. Especially when he finds out that it's Gennai's fault that Patamon's gone."

She expected someone to correct her. To come to Gennai's defense. But harsh as her accusation was, no one said a word. Koushiro's lips pursed into a thin line. "We can reschedule to a later date, then. Maybe... weeks from now. After he's had some space."

_Reschedule to a later date. _Like this was a doctor's appointment that they could postpone to their earliest convenience. She knew—damn it, she _knew_—that Koushiro didn't mean it that way, but a tiny part of her felt angry at his words.

"Don't give him a time frame or a date," she pleaded quietly. Robotically. "We should... we should wait until Takeru's completely ready to face him."

"She's right," Iori muttered. "I don't think... I don't think that we should tell him at all, at least... not right now. I don't like the idea of keeping it a secret from him, because it doesn't seem fair, but currently... it'll be too much. He needs time to process what happened today, first."

Koushiro paused but eventually nodded. "Right. Of course."

Hikari wondered how long it would take for Takeru to even begin to process Patamon's death, and she stopped herself short, because she already knew the answer. It was an answer she didn't like.

After all, the city could be restored to its former glory, even if it took some time. There was no materialistic thing that couldn't be fixed or replaced. But Patamon was irreplaceable.

And the damage done to Takeru's heart, to his soul, to his very being... that was irreparable.


End file.
